


Night of the Great Kabong

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Heart - Fandom, Music RPF
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Drama, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Protective Siblings, Shock, physical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 18:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: What went through the minds of the members of Heart on the night of Roger Fisher's infamous stage meltdown? A view from every member's perspective.





	1. Roger

It's been weeks -practically months now of this. I know I shouldn't have gone out with that other girl that one time and I don't know what drove me to do it. Nancy is everything to me; I love her so much. 

And I don't know if she knew at the time, but shortly afterwards, I knew something was up with her. She didn't want to spend as much time with me, and on stage, I could see she wasn't looking at me, turning her head to the side to smile at me as much between guitar riffs and songs. She was turning around to look behind her. At Mike, and his large, muscular arms as they crashed into the drums.

And her eyes, they would glaze over with fascination.

I knew before she told me that she was falling fast and hopelessly in love with Mike DeRosier. And there is nothing worse than seeing this beautiful woman dance around stage with that pale blue gradient, multi-sound hole with angel wing, Ovation Adamas, and realizing that she's no longer in love with you, but with the drummer.

And she came and told me. She knew she had to be honest. She still loved me enough to tell me, knowing that if she tried to cover it up, she risked it hurting me more -especially if I were to catch her and Mike in an act of romance.

Somehow though, it just made it hurt all the more. Because it made it real.

And now, those two are sitting on the couch with each other, we have ten minutes before we have to go onstage...

...And it hurts so bad, I think I'm going to go crazy.

It's a cold night, and our techs, and my brother warned us that we may have to check our instruments between every song, because they're gonna want to go out of tune.

As I go out on stage, I don't even make it through the first song before my guitar starts to sound off. He was right. I'm having to compensate, because the note position is different on one of my strings from the other, and it's a few chords before there's a break in the line for me to try and turn the peg up. It's still not enough, but it's better than it was. I'll manage until the end of the song.

I turn around, seeing Mike focused on his drumming, and Nancy looking at him like a lovesick puppy. He doesn't even love her the same way that I do, and it kills me. When he sits with her, and treats her kindly, he's just doing it because he doesn't want to hurt her feelings, and he doesn't want me to suffer knowing he's not treating her well when she left me for him.

We make it through a few songs, having to retune between every song, me having to keep adjusting as I can during songs. It won't stay in tune. It just won't.

Playing Dog and Butterfly is the worst. _We're getting older, the world's getting colder, and for the life of me, I don't know the reason why..._ Oh, why, Nance, why?

We go onto the next song, and this time, my guitar slides out of tune twice within the first minute of the song. I keep trying to extend a finger out just enough when I play the lower chords to push it up a bit, but then, the peg slides in the wrong direction, and my guitar makes a weird noise with it. Before I can stop myself, recover it by changing my fingering, my right hand comes down and hits such a sour chord that I struggle to call a chord because of how unmusical it was -it has notes in it that were between sharps and naturals that weren't even on the chromatic scale -and all of a sudden, I see red.

Before I can stop myself, I snatch my guitar up over my shoulders, pull it off of myself, and the next thing I know, I have it by the neck, and I'm slamming it into the stage, creating horrible, staticky groans and squeals from the amp. My beloved guitar, my white Les Paul. I pick it up and slam it again, like somebody slamming an axe into an old tree stump. Is this why they call guitars that?

I watch Nancy scramble to the other side of the stage, eyes wide with shock. Ann keeps singing, but she looks just as stunned. Steve and Howard are looking at me as if to say "What the Hell, man?" -and I can't bring myself to turn around and look at Mike.

I slam it another two times, causing the neck to break, and then I simply throw it down and storm offstage. That guitar had it coming! I just want to kill something right now, I'm so angry, and I can't... The guitar was the only thing I could do.

Somehow, I manage to bring myself back out for the rest of the show, but the energy has been broken, and it's not the same. There's a thick cloud of uneasiness, over the audience as well as the stage. They know something's up with us, and it's not good.

I get off the stage, and I start to pack up my equipment as soon as I get out of the shower and get dressed. It's then when I see the person I can't see right now. Not now, please not now. I don't want to hurt anyone, and I know I will, because anger and pain is going to get the better of me.

But then, Nancy's gentle, sweet voice tone swarming with concern floods the room. "Roger? Are you okay? You've given us quite a scare -if you've got something to talk about, you know, we can listen to you -we're all here for that-"

She's standing against the wall by the door, with wide doe eyes, and I can't take it. I snatch up one of my older Stratocasters that is banged up -never cared for it as much -and I find myself running forward.

"FUCK YOU, NANCY! I'M PERFECTLY OKAY -WITHOUT YOU AND MIKE AROUND TO SHOVE IT ALL IN MY FACE!" I slam the Strat hard against the wall. I miss Nancy's head by mere inches. 

Nancy flinches and shrinks back against the wall, and her eyes glaze over with a look of horror, disbelief, and shock. She is paralyzed with fear, so vulnerable, and it's even more painful than when she told me she wanted to date Mike. Knowing that I did this to her. I just want to pull her into my arms and love her again, but I know that now I've blown every chance of that in a burst of rage, because she's terrified of me -not me, the monster I've become now -and will never trust me again.

And then, Ann is in the doorway with a look that could have brought me down to my knees to die. Her expression is intense, knowing what I've done, and full of protectiveness. I could have hurt her little sister. I _did_ hurt her little sister. And said little sister is also Ann's closest friend, and the most important person in her life.

Ann grabs Nancy's hand, which is shaking so badly as her eyes dart every which way, uncoordinated. Nancy staggers forward a bit, her breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. It's as if she's lost all sense of her surroundings.

Ann pulls Nancy into her arms, supporting her, and quickly walks her out of the room, slamming the door hard behind me. She's going to comfort and take care of her broken little sister -to pick up the pieces that I made of her just a minute ago, and put them back together.

As she slams the door, I am left in just as many pieces. And nobody but myself can pick them up. Because it's entirely my fault for it.


	2. Mike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike DeRosier's POV

I know it's killing Roger.

I know it's wrong of me to pretend I love Nancy when I don't.

I feel like I have to though. I don't want her to be hurt. She's gonna get hurt either way at some point for this, and I think it's best to let Roger heal some before hurting her. Because if I hurt her right away, it's going to make Roger snap.

He could snap anyway, but I don't want to be the one to push him to that point.

What kind of a heartless bastard would I be if I were to take this girl who left a man head over heels in love with him, and not take good care of her? It's a duty I have to Roger while he's trying silently, and failing not to implode.

He's hurting so badly. I can see it in his eyes as he looks at me. It's very close to when we go onstage. Nancy and Ann are dressed up and ready -both beautiful, but not my women to love. I sit on the couch, arm stretched out across the back, and Nancy leans into it, cuddling close. 

I know that this night is going to end in pain somehow.

It's onstage. Roger's guitar isn't staying in tune. I can see him getting upset. Nancy keeps turning around to smile at me, waving when there's a break in the rhythm line for her to lift a hand up, and Roger is staring at her, his eyes full of longing heartache and fury.

Then, there's a horrible noise. His guitar. And the next thing I know, it's slamming into the stage.

I don't know whether to stop or keep going, so I keep drumming, watching the others to see what they do. It's a horrible feeling.

But that wasn't as horrible after the show. When Ann brought Nancy through to the bus, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, leaning into Ann's chest, shivering, and that I just could not bring myself to go over to them. I couldn't bring myself to go comfort Nancy when she trusted and loved me so much that she left Roger.

And had I been the one to traumatized her like this, he'd have been the first one beside Ann with her.


	3. Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Howard Leese's POV

I knew that when Nancy stopped loving Roger and started chasing after Mike that it was a doomed thing.

The love between Nancy and Mike only went one way. Mike tried to protect her and Roger from more pain by not tossing Nancy aside cruelly, denying her a try at a relationship, but it was doomed. I think it caused more pain in the end.

Tonight has been so hectic. Roger made a complete spectacle of himself onstage. I don't know whether to be ashamed of it, embarrassed at what the audience must think of us and what they saw, or scared that the guy isn't going crazy.

I know he's not insane like some of the lunatics running around, but right now, after he slammed his guitar onstage, and then attacked Nancy backstage, I gotta say, I think he needs some serious therapy.

And I also gotta wonder, as great a guitar player he is, as talented as he is, as wonderful a friend he is to me, and as much of what he's done for this band...

...can we still have him around? Do we need him around like this?

Or is it time to say goodbye?

And how the hell are we going to do that without damaging him and everyone here more?


	4. Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Fossen's POV

You ask what I think about what happened tonight?

Howard asked me my opinion, and I know it's because he's just as stumped as me and trying to figure out what we're going to do.

I had to tell him that I got nothing. At least at the moment.

Nancy set herself up for this when she left Roger. I almost feel like she deserved to have Roger blow up at her. Though, not in this physical sense. I heard him yell through the backstage area at her, and that would have been enough to drive the point home. He didn't have to break a guitar and try to kill her with one.

_Just because she screwed up doesn't mean you gotta screw up too, Rog... You cheated on her anyway. What comes around goes around, and it backfired on you pretty quick. Doesn't feel good, does it?_ I would never say that to his face, especially in the state he's in, but it's what I honestly think of the situation. And now we have drama tearing this band apart in our height of glory. Dog and Butterfly, our best selling album so far.

He slammed that guitar into the stage, and we all ran to the other side as far away from him as possible, because we didn't know what he was going to do.

It was the most intense night onstage we've had. And not in a good way at all. It was miserable. The attitude was contagious, and we were miserable. I couldn't wait to get offstage and away from Roger, and that says a lot for me, because I love being onstage.

I remember afterwards, Nancy had said she was going to check on him. Ann couldn't stop her stubborn little sister, but she stood by the door, prepared to run in and rescue her. Because we knew it was dangerous. We knew she was playing with fire, and as they all say, _you can play with fire, but you're gonna get burned._

And burned, did Nancy get. The crash against the wall was so loud. Ann's eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she pushed that door open so fast. Everything was moving in slow motion, but I know she had that door open in less than a second.

And when she came out with Nancy, I knew that there was going to be a lot of talk tonight.

I know that Roger's time in Heart is running toward the end.


	5. Nancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy knows she's made a serious mistake and suffers the consequences.

I'm excited for tonight's show, as always. This tour for Dog And Butterfly is our biggest so far, and it just gets better every night. I've mastered the art of improv on this tour -it was a bit nerve wracking at first not knowing what I was gonna do with Silver Wheels and Crazy on You each night until it happened, but it's a whole lot more interesting, and the audience loves it.

I'm a bit nervous too, as always, and I'm on the couch with Mike. His arm is around my shoulder, and if there wasn't this huge performance coming up in ten minutes, I'd be content to stay here all day. It's so cozy on the couch. Mike is telling me how I'm gonna do great as always, stroking my hair -he's such a sweet man. As was Roger. I know Roger still isn't over it, but I can't help it. I started falling in love with Mike so fast, and he had cheated on me anyway. Maybe me falling in love with Mike was a blessing, since it made the hurt from that so much less than it could have been.

Ann keeps calling me a rebel though. Telling me I'm walking on thin ice. She was the rebel before me -mainly from being the outcast and having to make her own way to survive -but since joining Heart, I've become edgier than I've been in my whole life -edgier than Ann. 

We go out on stage. It's windy. It's cold. But it's invigorating. I'm ready to play this one through.

The night's rendition of Crazy on You is one of the best. The intro comes out well, with Hijinxs built into it, and the crowd goes wild at the end of it, as well as when I do my high kick that I am beginning to think fits Crazy on You the most of all our songs.

Roger is struggling to keep his guitar in tune. I keep hearing the change in its tone. He keeps looking down at it, his expression intense and aggravated. I figure he wants to be left alone, knowing he's distracted enough by it already, so I try not to dance over too close to him, and I smile to Mike each time I turn around. Mike is focusing on his drumming and not paying me much attention, but I don't mind. He gets caught up in his parts and needs to focus with a crowd so wild.

Just then, as I turn around, there's an odd noise I've never heard from Roger's guitar. He's less than three feet from me, and all of a sudden, he's lifting it off of himself.

The Les Paul is slammed into the ground, abused. It lets out a cry of agony through the amp as it is tortured. Roger snatches it up from the ground.

Suddenly, I am worried about him. What's going on? Is he okay? God knows -was it my fault? I shouldn't have just dropped him like that -I should have been a better friend and supported him during this time after breaking up so that it wasn't as hard on him. Instead, I'd followed Mike around, lovesick, like a horse with blinkers over its eyes. Completely blind to everything else around it.

I run over to the other side of the stage, trying to give him space. He slams his guitar four times total before throwing it down and storming off. 

We continue playing. We're unsure what to do -all of us waiting for someone to be the first to stop and none of us having the courage to do it. As I make my way back over to the side of the stage I usually am on with Roger, I see his Les Paul on the ground.

It's neck is broken off, snapped uncleanly with many splinters sticking out jaggedly. The body of it is scratched, scraped, cracked. It's never going to play again.

And suddenly, I realize he left that guitar there for me. As a symbol that our love was dead, and that he was shattered to pieces.

He comes back out with another guitar, and we finish the show, but I lose the feeling I usually have onstage. I feel like I didn't play very well. I never got back into that "zone". 

At the end of the show, I wait until Roger's cleared the stage. I go over to the broken Les Paul, pushed over to the side so nobody would trip on it. The curtain is dropping, so I won't look suspicious to the audience that hasn't cleared yet. I pick up the Les Paul, it's broken pieces, cradling its body in my arms. My arms are sore for some reason, besides the usual tiredness after a show. It's like the guitar has pain of its own, and it's radiating into me.

"Oh, honey," I sigh, and I'm not sure if I mean it to Roger, or to the guitar that I know Roger loved more than any of his other guitars. "I'm so sorry..."

I don't know why I say this, as I know that sorry isn't going to undo what happened tonight, nor will it put the guitar back together and allow it to play again. It's done for.

I carry it backstage, finding its case in the open area where we hang out. I put the Les Paul back in it's case, trying to lay the broken neck pieces in order, so that it rests neatly almost as if it weren't broken. But looking at it, it's clear there are gaps between the pieces, splinters in the wood that are unfinished. I close the case, allowing it to rest in peace. 

As soon as I put it away, I know I have to try and do the right thing. I have to at least show concern for Roger. I can't turn a blind eye to something this obvious that I hurt him.

"Where are you going, Nancy?" asks Ann as I approach Roger's dressing room door.

"I'm going to see if he's okay."

"Nance, he's not. We all know it. Give him space -you don't know how he's going to react to you."

I shake my head. I'm doing it no matter what.

I go into the room. Roger is brooding against his gear, hair still wet from his shower. 

"Roger?" I ask, genuinely concerned about him. I do want to be able to listen to his frustrations -let him vent, even if it's all against me. It would make it better for both of us in the end, for him to get it out, because then he could heal better, and we'd still be friends. "Are you okay? You've given us quite a scare -if you've got something to talk about, you know, we can listen to you -we're all here for that-"

Roger turns on me, and he yells so loud, labored, and hard that I can't even make out all of it, but I know he said "fuck you," and something about shoving it in his face.

I start to come forward, trying to comfort him, but then, he lifts up his old Stratocaster. He's coming forward at me, and I have no idea what he's doing. Before I can even grasp the scene playing out in front of me, I hear the door click open just seconds before the Strat swings down at me and crashes into the wall. 

I flinch sideways and backwards as it comes down. The guitar misses me by mere inches, and suddenly, an indescribable feeling comes over me.

He just tried to kill me? Was he trying to kill me? 

He's glaring at me with fire in his icy blue eyes, which have a slight hint of wetness to them.

It's like an electrical shock to the chest. This tightness spreading, hard to breathe... The whole scene seems to have a hazy look, and I'm numb. I see it all in front of me, but it's like something in a dream. I can't feel my feet on the floor. My hands are tingling and cold. A shiver goes through my body, my knees feel weak, and I'm taking in short, quick gasps that I can't control.

I'm faintly aware of a hand grabbing mine. A soft, small one that doesn't have too many callouses from strings. Ann.

Then, she's pulling me against her, and my shaking body goes weak. I'm sure I'd be on the ground if it weren't for her. I don't even feel my legs moving, but I know I must be walking with her, because she's not carrying me. She pulls a blanket from the dressing room, puts it over my shoulders, and then we go out of there so fast to the bus that I can't even see it happening. We run so fast that I don't even know how we're getting from the dressing room to the bus.

We get there, and Ann sits me down on the couch, sits down next to me, and pulls me over sideways to lay across her lap. Her hand goes through my hair, she murmurs soft, loving inanities, and it's this moment when everything from tonight all the way back to when I broke up with Roger comes together.

It's like a massive, rogue wave slamming into the deck of a boat on the Bering Sea, flooding it's deck, breaking it apart, and capsizing it. 

And the pain, shame, and terror of it is so much that I will never know or be able to describe what is going on as it does.


	6. Ann

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann Wilson's POV. Ann must protect Nancy. And Howard must protect Heart. They realize that this does not bode well for Roger, or any of them.

I knew when Nancy dumped Roger for Mike, even if Mike did love her the way he made himself appear to, that it was the biggest mistake that she could make.

My little sister, who I love almost as much as the world. My best friend during a childhood of bullying and isolation in school. A fantastic guitarist, and one of the only few who could possibly make an acoustic rock like that. 

I brought her into this band, because I knew she'd love it, and I love being around her. We both have musical talent, but it works best when we put it together.

I was also aware that I was bringing her into a hard life -an industry that wasn't very considerate of women yet. We were pioneers in a man's occupation, and it didn't stop us, but we had to be careful. And I had to protect her. 

Tonight, I feel as if I have failed that duty. And it's the worst feeling of my entire life, seeing her in so much pain, feeling so much guilt -deservedly so -but enough to choke a horse, and not being able to do anything about it. She's nearly destructing in shock, and raw injury from the backfiring.

She loves Mike. She's helplessly in love with Mike. And I think Mike has done the kindest, most caring, but also most dangerous thing by trying to protect her and pretending to love her back.

I don't think she realized how much she still cares for Roger though until tonight. Even if she doesn't love him romantically, she loves him as a friend within the band. And I think she forgot about that, because her love for Mike was so strong, and she let it take over her life and everything else between the band.

I nearly cried watching her put that Les Paul back in it's case. Because I knew she wanted to put Roger back together too, even if it was her fault he was broken. She hadn't meant to break him like that. The guitar was a symbol for his suffering. She wanted to put that guitar to rest peacefully, even if she couldn't put Roger at peace.

And then, I was horrified when she wanted to go in there. The room might as well have been full of cyanide and would have been less dangerous. But I couldn't stop her. She tossed her head and went in even after I warned her not to.

When Roger shouted, I sprang up from the couch so fast -I think I may have jumped over the back of it to get around, it's all a blur -and I ran, arm outstretched, reaching for that doorknob. It felt like I was trying to fly through molasses. But I must have gotten there pretty quick. Roger was still yelling as my hand came down on the doorknob. I turned it and yanked the door open so fast that I nearly pulled it into my face. Thank goodness I didn't, as knocking myself out wouldn't have been very helpful.

However, it was Nancy who was in more danger of being knocked out, as I saw Roger running forward with the Stratocaster, and the guitar going forward to crash into the wall. Right next to Nancy's head.

Her eyes had such a look of terror in them; I'll never forget is as long as I live.

She was in shock, so painfully clear. Her eyes glazed over, and it was as if every bit of life had just left her body as the color drained out of her face. She shrank back into the wall and stopped moving, except for heavy shaking from the near toxic amount of adrenaline her body had just released into her blood.

I grabbed her -her hands were cold as ice -and I pulled her out of that room fast as I could. I could feel her body becoming weak as I held her up, so I grabbed a blanket from the dressing room, knowing that somebody who was in shock needed to be kept warm. Then, we just ran for the bus. I pulled her along, and her legs followed along, uncoordinated without a command from her own body.

It was twenty minutes before she started to come out of shock in my lap.

And since she did, I haven't left the position I am in now. She's still laying across my lap, face buried in it, gasping for air uncontrollably and sobbing her heart out, one hand holding mine and squeezing it tight as she can -which isn't as tight as it would be with her body completely wracked from adrenaline. Occasionally, she chokes out some incoherent gibberish, and I know it's to the effect of "Ann, I'm so scared"; "Ann, what am I gonna do?"; "Ann, I really hurt him" -and there's nothing I can say or do to fix it. To fix her, or Roger.

Howard sits down next to me. He's been talking to Steve, all while I've been holding my sister as she implodes on herself. Her sobs are becoming weaker, she's listless, and I know she's about to pass out, having cried herself into oblivion. The worst thing about it is she's probably going to feel even worse when she wakes up. Such an amount of adrenaline is going to have her body shocked and lacking energy for days, and the heavy crying is bound to give her a headache. The whole thing will be like a big hangover without alcohol.

"Ann? What do you think about Roger? I'm not sure what to do with him."

I stroke my sister's back in soothing, rhythmic circles. Her sobbing finally quiets, and she's motionless, except for the occasional hiccup that jerks her frame still.

"I don't know either Howard. Right now, I don't think I can approach him. Maybe tomorrow, but definitely not tonight." I really can't deal with Roger tonight. Comforting him, I would be willing to do, but right now, looking at the state he's left my sister in, even if she did deserve to suffer for her mistake, I'm afraid I'd kill him.

"I don't think we can just forget it happened and move on. That's bigger than life," sighs Howard.

"I definitely can't forget it." I nod as I reply.

And it's this moment we both realize that Roger Fisher will soon no longer be with us.


End file.
